Past, Present, and Future
by kellford333
Summary: "I have my father's eyes. That's why you won't look at me, isn't it?" Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story so I hope you enjoy! It takes place when Hermione and Draco are both twenty two, after the war. I do not own any of the characters, blah blah blah. Enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think!**

It had been one week since she had gotten the news.

It was all her fault. If she hadn't erased their memories, then maybe they wouldn't be dead. The last sentence she ever said to them hung on her tongue, bitter and sharp tasting. She repeated it over and over, hoping that if she said it enough, it would lose its meaning.

"_Obliviate._"

She rolled over in her bed, glaring at the sunlight that dared to leak in through her window. Her alarm chose this moment to go off, and she moaned as a muggle musician shrieked out lyrics to what was considered music. For a moment she considered skipping work, but then she remembered the pile of bills on her counter, and swung her feet out of bed, wincing at the cold floor. That's how everything felt now. Cold.

She had been eating dinner when the owl had arrived. It informed her that Lucius Malfoy had found her parents, that he had murdered them, that he had been caught and his trial was in two weeks. It might have said more, but at that point all her composure was gone. She had run to the bathroom, throwing up as she realized the truth. Her parents had died without knowing her. They didn't think of her at all, and they never would again. Now, a week later, she was still a mess. She picked up the Daily Prophet and saw his sneering face on the front cover, being dragged away by multiple aurors. Hate bubbled in her chest as she stared into his dark, hateful eyes.

An hour later Hermione was out the door, a cup of coffee in hand. The cold wind caused her to narrow her eyes and, as a result, she walked straight into a man walking nearby. Her bag split open and scattered all over the sidewalk. After mumbling a quick "sorry", she bent down to pick it up. She was vaguely aware of the mysterious man beside her, collecting the multiple books that now littered the pavement.

She stood up to tell him thanks and froze, dropping everything she had just picked up. Stormy grey eyes met chocolaty brown ones, and a smirk appeared on the very familiar face in front of her. Hermione, however, couldn't breathe. Those haunting eyes had appeared in the newspaper for the past week, had been the last ones that her parents had ever seen.

"Take a picture, Granger. It'll last longer." She blinked, and realized that it wasn't Lucius Malfoy standing in front of her, but Draco. He had stopped smirking, and she could see another emotion dawn on him. Realization. He understood why she was acting so skittish.

"Look Granger, I'm not my fa-" She flinched visibly and turned on her heel, sprinting away before he could even finish his sentence. He grabbed her elbow but she whipped around before he could say anything.

"_I don't need your pity!" _She spat at him, enunciating every syllable and injecting every word with poison so he wouldn't miss the hostility behind the words. He stepped back and she took that as an opportunity to escape, ducking under his outstretched arm and towards the coffee shop that she worked at, one of four different jobs.

Out of all her jobs, the coffee shop was her favorite. Maybe it was the smell, or the friendly customers, or the warm feeling she got when she was in there, but she loved it. She found that the scent of coffee beans seemed to cling to her, infecting her pores and seeping into her clothes, even after she left the café.

Once she got to work, she managed to calm down some. _It's not like I'll ever see him again, _she thought, tying her wild curls into a knot at the back of her head. At that moment, the bells above the door jingled as another customer walked in. She looked up to send them a warm smile but it froze on her flushed features as she realized who it was.

"What do you want?" She snarled at him.

"I would like a caramel mocha with – "

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "What happened? You used to be so forgiving and kind. I used to call you-"he stopped and choked a little on the word. "…Mudblood and all these other horrible things, but you never reacted this way." Something in his words defeated her, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry. It's just-"

"My eyes."

"Come again?"

"I have my father's eyes. Don't I? That's why you can't look at me." True to his words, she had been very careful not to look directly at him since he walked in. Hermione chewed at her lip but didn't answer, deciding whether he was trustworthy or not. She thought about everything he had done and said at Hogwarts, and the obvious answer was clear – no. But here he was, acting like a normal human being, and it shocked her.

"I, however, am still waiting for my mocha." She snarled at him and went to work.

"Haven't changed a bit," she grumbled under her breath, looking up just in time to see the signature Malfoy smirk directed at her as the manager of the café chose this moment to walk in. Hermione cursed and pasted a fake smile on her face.

"What was that, Granger?"

"Nothing!" she said in the happiest voice she could muster. Practically shoving the drink in his hands, she grimaced and said, "Have a good day!"

"Will you be here tomorrow, Granger?"

"No," she said even though, in reality, she was here every day of the week except for Sundays.

"Well, I will. At eight A.M. You should come."

"No," she said again, relief washing over her. She didn't have work until night.

"Please, Granger. You can't resist my charm any more than every other woman can."

"What charm?" she sneered at him, her muddled brain unable to form a better comeback. Draco's smile just grew wider.

"Have a nice day, Granger." She shot him a glare, determined not to give him the satisfaction of aggravating her.

"A response is usually customary." His smirk reappeared and she resisted the urge to smack it off his face.

"Have a nice day, ferret!" she practically sang, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sarcasm is not attractive," Draco goaded.

"Whoever said that was just jealous that they couldn't do it properly." A smile tugged at the corner of Draco's mouth.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I really must go." Bells jingled at the front of the shop and Hermione shot him one last suspicious glare before turning away to attend to the new customer.

As Draco headed out into the cold, a lazy smile appeared on his face. She was witty, and fun to be around, even if she hated him. The grin disappeared, however, when he remembered exactly what his father had done to her family. He didn't use the name of Malfoy anymore – he avoided telling anyone his last name. His family tree was tainted, and not in the way that his father and mother and aunt always believed. The name "Malfoy" was no longer something to be proud of.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger stood in front of her alarm clock at 7:45 in the morning. She glared at the blinking numbers and tried to forget exactly why her brain had chosen this time to wake up.

She didn't _mean _to wake up exactly in time for her meeting with Malfoy that, until this moment, she had been planning to skip. Her internal clock was apparently conspiring against her. The numbers on her digital clock flipped up a digit to 7:46, and she let out an indignant huff, crossing her arms over her chest and swearing that she wasn't going to go.

At exactly 8:01, Hermione raced into the coffee shop, her cheeks pink from running in the bitter wind the whole way to the café. Malfoy smirked as he watched from a small, two person table near the door. With her curls still wild and eyes heavily lidded from sleep, she looked striking in an effortless way. Not that he would ever admit it to her. If he did, she would probably hex him into oblivion.

Her coffee colored eyes found him at last, oblivious to all the thoughts running through his head. She scowled at him and made a show of ignoring him and walking to the counter to order her drink. As she reached into her purse to pay however, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take care of it," a masculine voice said. Hermione bristled. Did he think she couldn't take care of herself?

"Actually, I am perfectly capable of paying for my own drink," she growled at him.

"Yes, but it would be rude for me to let my date pay," he said, and then promptly handed the confused cashier a ten dollar bill. "Keep the change."

Hermione stared after him, open mouthed, before stalking over to the table he occupied. "We are _not _on a date."

Draco smirked out her. "Actually, technically we are." He couldn't help but shrink back under the look she gave him after that. "Okay, okay, if you want, we can pretend we aren't."

Looking a little bit happier, Hermione stared at the seat across from Draco, and then looked at him. He raised an eyebrow. After looking around the café to make sure no one she knew was there, she slid into the seat, sitting on the very edge of it in case she had to make a hasty escape.

"I'm not going to bite, you know." He said, sounding slightly offended.

"What do you want?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Why did you want to meet me here?" Frustrated, Hermione took a sip of her coffee, only to spit it back out. "My coffee is _so _much better."

Draco chuckled, and as she looked out the window at the snow-covered buildings, he studied her features, noticing finally that the ghost of a smile was etched onto her face. For one second, she didn't look defensive and he decided to enjoy it while it lasted. It ended after a few seconds however, when she felt him staring at her in her peripheral vision.

"What were you thinking about?" he blurted, and he was rewarded as a look of surprise flitted across her face, no matter how brief. He didn't expect her to answer honestly, and wasn't disappointed.

"Why do you care?"

He seriously considered the question. He wasn't sure why he cared about this fiery brunette. Sure, she was pretty, but it would never work out. She hated him, and with good reason. However, something about her captivated him.

"How many jobs do you work?" The question took her by surprise, but she stubbornly refused to answer. He sighed. "Granger, if I was going to hurt you, I would have done it by now."

For a moment, she just looked at him. Then she sat up straighter and said, with a defiant tone, "Four." He couldn't help but admire her independence and refusal to be dependent on anyone else, even though it was likely going to be the death of her.

He crossed his arms and examined her stony face. "Granger, you are one stubborn woman." And then it happened. She smiled at him, a real one and he found that he couldn't breathe. It struck him as funny that one smile from her was such a big deal, and for a moment he got lost in it.

But then the bells jingled, and another customer walked in, and Draco cursed them as Hermione's expression locked itself up again. Merlin's beard, she was the most frustrating creature he had ever encountered.

That's when the televisions, as muggles called them, switched over to the evening news. He looked up to see his father's heartless sneer reflected back at him, and instantly turned to Hermione, who had blanched. Even the muggles were searching for him, thinking that he was just your common murderer. Draco saw that Hermione was about to make a run for it, and they both stood up at the same time.

He followed her out of the café, and right before she could escape, he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not like him. I promise. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I may be arrogant and rude, but I would _never _do something like that." She didn't say anything, so he decided to give her some space. But just as he turned around, her voice stopped him.

"You don't have his eyes," she said softly, and he turned around to look at her. She looked far away, however. "His are colder." And with that, she pushed past him and didn't look back.

That night, Hermione lay on her bed reading about patronuses when she felt a thought tugging at the back of her mind. Something about an old memory…

_It was midnight, and Hermione couldn't sleep. She tiptoed down the cold, stone floors of Hogwarts, heading to the library. It had been weeks since she had slept properly. She couldn't go to the Great Hall without seeing the bodies and bloodstains everywhere, even though they had long since been cleaned up._

_Insomnia isn't something you can hide. Her eyes were bloodshot, red rimmed, and practically swallowed up by the dark circles under them. She was dizzy and miserable, but even when she did manage to fall asleep, it only lasted for three hours at the most and she always woke up screaming._

_It was everywhere, the remnants of the war. People talk about how happy they will be after a war is over, but they never are. They never are. Hermione knew that she would never forget it. She would never forget slipping in the pools of blood on the floor, the wailing of the dying, and the sight of twisted limbs. She would never get used to seeing George without Fred, and would never cease to hear Molly Weasley's wails at his funeral._

_Never. _

_She was stopped from thinking any further by a muttering in a room attached to a nearby corridor. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she peeked around the edge of the door to see an unexpected sight._

_Draco Malfoy stood in the room, muttering the same spell over and over again, trying and failing to cast it._

"_Expecto Patronum!" _

_A wisp of vapor shot out through his wand, and he aimed his fist at a nearby wall, frustrated by his failure. Then he stopped, wiped the sweat off his forehead, took a deep breath, and picked up his wand._

"_Expecto Patronum."_

_Light burst out from his wand, forming the shape of a lion. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Draco, the stereotypical Slytherin boy, had the patronus of a lion? At a different time it would have made her laugh, but now she just watched, wide eyed, as the young Malfoy finally smiled and watched the patronus proudly. _

Hermione stared at the book she was reading,

"Death Eaters, or the supporters of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, are known for being incapable of producing patronuses. This is due to the fact that to form a patronus, one must have a happy memory." Hermione whispered the sentences to herself, realizing the truth.

Draco Malfoy was never a death eater.


End file.
